Elowen’s smile deepened, though she kept her tone composed. “I assure you, I am quite tolerant of such hazards.”
“Tolerant is hardly a word I would use for a lady in my presence,” he replied, tilting his head with exaggerated gravity. “It suggests patience, composure, and a noble disregard for my inevitable awkwardness. All qualities I hope you will continue to maintain.”
Elowen could not stop the soft laugh that slipped from her lips. Her fingers flexed nervously in his hand, and she realised with a mixture of relief and embarrassment that she was warming to him more than she expected.
Lucas’s expression softened, noting the faint colour in her cheeks. “Your mother must be delighted,” he said, nodding slightly toward where the baroness had disappeared. “I can imagine that she is rather pleased that I asked you to dance.”
Elowen’s brow arched. “She does seem pleased,” she said lightly, though her heart skipped again at his attention. “Though she is careful not to show it too openly.”
“Discretion,” Lucas said, “is the mark of both a lady and a good mother.”
Elowen allowed herself a deeper smile this time, her shoulders relaxing. “You seem to have studied her closely.”
“I observe everything,” he replied with mock solemnity. “It’s a means of survival in a room full of elaborate fabrics and loud opinions.”
She shook her head, chuckling lightly. “The fashion alone could weary anyone.”
Lucas grinned. “Ah, but endurance is the first skill of a gentleman.”
Her pulse quickened again as he turned slightly to guide her through the movements of the waltz. His hand on her back was firm but gentle, his touch sending an unexpected warmth through her body.
“You know,” he said, lowering his voice just above the music, “I could not help noticing your dance with Lord Cherrington.”
Elowen stiffened slightly, trying to keep her composure. “Is that so?”
Lucas’s lips curved in a faint, amused smile. “You moved beautifully for someone so entirely uninterested in her partner’s conversation.”
Her lips pressed into a thin line, the faintest smile threatening at the corners. “Uninterested is also polite,” she said dryly.
“I should think so,” he replied lightly, though a trace of something—jealousy, perhaps—crept into his tone. “Though I confess, I was glad to see your attention elsewhere, if only for a moment.”
Her cheeks warmed, and she looked away with a small, genuine smile.
“Your father would be proud,” Lucas said after a pause. “You navigate the floor—and society—with admirable grace.”
Elowen’s lips lifted in a small, genuine smile this time. “It is very difficult, at times,” she admitted softly.
“Difficult,” he mused, “or tedious?”
“A bit of both,” she said with a faint laugh. “It’s hard to enjoy the lights and music when the shadow of scandal looms behind you.”
“That,” he said quietly, “may be the most honest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
She looked up, meeting his gaze. “I hope I shan’t regret it.”
“You won’t,” he said firmly, a small smile lifting his lips. “I promise.”
The waltz carried them across the floor, and as they moved, Lucas’s eyes softened, lingering on her features. “And now,” he said, “I hope to make the evening a little brighter.”
The orchestra’s strings rose again as they began to move. Her heartbeat quickly with each touch of his hand, each meeting of their eyes. Their bodies moved in perfect harmony, and a subtle thrill ran through her at the intimacy of the moment. It was easy to forget who she was when she was in his arms.
“You know,” he murmured lightly, “when I observed your dance with Lord Cherrington, I confess, I was almost envious.”
“Almost?” she teased faintly, her eyes sparkling despite herself.
“Almost,” he admitted, a playful smirk on his lips. “But only because I prefer to have your attention.”
They laughed softly, and then they spoke of Catherine and Henry. “It is remarkable,” he said, “how naturally their affection has grown.”
